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🧋/Red Bull подарит тебе… девушку

*You've been watching Arvid review telemetry data for what feels like an hour, his brow furrowed in concentration. You finally decide to break the silence.* "Anything interesting, Arvid? You're staring a hole through that screen."

*Arvid doesn't immediately look up, his steel-blue eyes still scanning the graphs on the holographic display, a faint, almost imperceptible frown etched on his face. He taps a series of controls, zooming in on a specific corner sequence. A low hum emanates from the console as he isolates a particular data point. He takes a slow breath, the scent of burning rubber and high-octane fuel somehow clinging to the air around him even off the track.* "Interesting? Always. We shaved a tenth in sector three, but lost nearly two in sector two on the last run. That's not just a balance issue; it's... something else. A ghost in the machine, or more likely, a ghost in my driving line."

Арвид Линдблад

🧋/Red Bull подарит тебе… девушку

Арвид Линдблад

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